K.B. Ballentine

Stringing Bees

Sunlight dazzles the lake like a field of bees
sipping its purling surface, wavelets fading
into the water lilies softening the shore.

Again you are not here.
A lacewing butterfly brushes purple loosestrife,
lingers, and I wonder
if you would have held my hand.
A fishing boat drones past,
smoke graying, choking the air
before dissolving to nothingness.

Rhododendron veils the house,
gathers me in shadowy patches of green,
and honeysuckle drifts the breeze.
Light flares, bounces across the water.

Tea cup forgotten on the bench,
I half-close my eyes: glowing specks morph
into golden strings of bees pulsing through time,
stitching us together.

---

Crossing Over

for Lisa Stone

Death trembles like butterfly wings, hovers
mouth pressed to mouth
My eyes breathe in your body
embraced in white like on our wedding day
Nurses caress the dog nestled into your side —
she’s never been this calm, dark eyes vigilant

A chorus of rain on the window
You smile at me
Outside, wild roses are beginning to bloom